Lakewood Ranch couple gives thanks for love and life

Bob Seiter credits his wife of 46 years for saving his life and inspiring his rehabilitation from a massive stroke.

By GABRIELLE RUSSON

Bob Seiter stumbles over the words ever so slightly as he tells the story of how he met his love, the woman who would be at his side when he couldn't speak at all from the stroke.

He was a not-so-serious college student who became a not-so-serious naval officer who wanted to be sent someplace with beautiful women.

Sue was 19, an idealistic and confident student who majored in American studies and thought that she could change the world.

They met on a blind date in July 1965 while Bob was home on leave in Philadelphia. She thought he was interesting, and his uniform and the new convertible helped, too. He liked her looks and her thoughtfulness.

"What's not to like?" Bob said. "I couldn't believe my good fortune and didn't want to do anything to screw it up. From that point forward it was avoid getting myself into trouble."

They dated long distance for one year while Bob was stationed at Virginia Beach and she attended George Washington University in Washington, D.C.

He proposed by the Potomac River near the White House.

For a wedding present, Bob's father paid their phone bill accrued from their year living apart.

Six years into their marriage, Sue gave birth to a daughter, Elizabeth, whom everyone calls Libby. Then, a son named David.

Deciding to live

Sitting in their Lakewood Ranch house, Bob, 72, reflects on how his wife helped him after that Sept. 3 morning when his life changed.

He headed out for his 6 a.m. church prayer breakfast, but never made it.

Instead of sleeping in, as she usually did, Sue woke up early and went to work in the kitchen. She found Bob in the garage, sweaty and confused. He didn't know where he had been or where he was going.

At Sarasota Memorial Hospital, doctors told them the grim diagnosis. He had suffered a hemorrhagic stroke and his brain was bleeding.

If the brain is the size of a cantaloupe, Bob's hemorrhage was the size of a lemon, said Dr. Bruce Robinson, one of several doctors who cared for him.

The blood on his brain was disrupting his body, so he couldn't swallow or move. He was unresponsive, like he was drowsy from a deep sleep, in the hospital's ICU unit.

"It was the kind of thing they (the family) were given the advice he was unlikely to recover," Robinson said.

Sue remembered how Bob had said he would rather be shot than not play golf. And he meant it.

She worried he wouldn't survive. And even if he lived, what would his quality of life be like?

In the hospital, Bob told Sue he wanted to try and fight.

"That was such a gift. I didn't know what he wanted," Sue said. "I felt extremely grateful he wanted to live."

The couple's two children flew home to be with their parents. The family kept an online journal, chronicling the days in the hospital.

"Hope is the thing with feathers that perches on the soul and sings the tune — without the words and never stops at all," Libby Nelson wrote, quoting the poet Emily Dickinson.

During nearly three months in the hospital, the Seiters received at least one card every day. Well, every day except for two days.

They kept all 203 cards, from the congregation at Peace Presbyterian Church, friends and family members. Even the staff at the Starbucks, where Bob religiously ordered his plain coffee with cream and two artificial sweeteners, sent a get-well note.

A miracle

What happened next surprised the doctors.

"Doctors aren't as smart as we wish we are. We can tell you what's likely and what's probable," Robinson said.

Bob defied expectations, the doctor said.

With the immediate emergency subsiding, Bob left the ICU and started intensive rehabilitation that taught him how to move again. For three hours a day, he relearned how to talk, use a spoon and dress himself.

On the first day, he couldn't feel Laura Magnusson, the rehab's director, touch his hand.

A week later, he stretched out on his bed, hands under his head as if he were lounging on vacation.

"I get goosebumps every time I think about him," Magnusson said about his recovery. "It's a true miracle."

Bob returned home to Lakewood Ranch three weeks ago. He has a long list of little triumphs, such as climbing the stairs or seeing the ocean at Siesta Key.

"No one would have assumed we'd be here we are today," he said.

But there is still therapy to help with his movement and speech as his brain continues to heal. His first time hitting golf balls did not go well. He needs more time.

"I sucked," he said. "I should've been happy with just being on the golf course."

But on this Thanksgiving, there is much to be thankful for, he says, sitting next to his wife of 46 years who gave him purpose to get better in the hospital.